


Go to Sleep.

by lazily_astray



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Nightmares, Sleep, Texting, how do I even tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3381035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazily_astray/pseuds/lazily_astray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I can't sleep. - SH</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go to Sleep.

 

_I can't sleep. - SH_

John startled to consciousness the way he had gone to sleep- swearing. He hated his text message alert; he _loathed_ it at this hour. Still under the covers, he swathed his hand around for his phone. After he knocked over his empty teacup, he turned on the bedside lamp, now properly awake, and got his phone. It wasn't anywhere near where he'd been hitting around.

_So what do I do? - JW_

He didn't have to sign his message, but it was habit now. 

_You figure out. You're the Doctor. - SH_

_I don't have a sonic screwdriver on me, Sherlock. - JW_

_What? - SH_

_Nothing. Go to sleep. - JW_

_But I can't! That was the whole reason of waking you up to that delightful swearing, if you don't recall. - SH_

_It was barely a whisper! -JW_

_Can you, er, usually hear me? -JW_

  _Christ, can you even hear me having sex in here? - JW_

_No, I deduced it, John. - SH_

_And you phrase it like you have sex regularly. What a pity. - SH_

It was a moment before John could regain his composure. 

_I do have sex regularly, Sherlock, just not here. - JW_

_No you don't. You're barely "getting any". Your gait is awfully telling. - SH_

_Why not here though? - SH_

_Because_ you're _here, Sherlock. - JW_

_Oh, you need not be so considerate. Sex does not alarm me. - SH_

_Liar liar Belstaff on fire. - JW_

_You leave the coat out of it. - SH_

_So you do agree, then. - JW_

_No - SH_

_Shut up. - SH_

John knew there would be no texts to follow, at least not for that night. He put his phone under his pillow, switched off the light, and buried himself in the soft bed. He chose to ignore the fallen cup. Lights flashed around his closed eyes, and he was flying in at the brink of oblivion. 

_ Bzzzzzzzzt. _

_ Oh, bloody fucking hell. _

He woke his screen and threw his head back when the bright light punched him. 

_Still can't sleep. - SH_

Of course he can't.

_You're a vampire, aren't you? - JW_

_That would mean I slept during the day. In a coffin. And had you for dinner. - SH_

_Your sighing is audible. - SH_

_What do you want me to do? - JW_

_Sing you a lullaby? - JW_

_Heavens no, that would wake even Mrs. Hudson. - SH_

_Warm milk? I don't know. - JW_

_How is warm milk supposed to calm me down? - SH_

John furrowed his brow. What did he mean by _that_?

Stretching, he put both feet to the ground with his phone. The floor was icy which sent a violent shiver up his spine -it was frigid and it was horrible to feel himself being stripped of his warmth. He thought of actually warming up some milk, but he wasn't prepared for the crass loudness of the microwave at the dead of night. Instead, he sought a playlist in his phone. 

_John? - SH_

John did not reply, but opened the door to Sherlock's room. The bedside light was on, and Sherlock was sitting up. 

"How did you expect to fall asleep in such a bright room sitting up?" John's voice was no louder than a whisper, broken with sleep. 

"No, I..." Sherlock trailed off. His hair was messy, sticking out in awkward angles. It was always messy, but this time they had been restyled by his head moving on his pillow too much. He had clearly been sleeping, and had woken up not too long ago. John further noticed his face carrying a sheen of sweat, even in the cold. He needed to calm down. He went closer to sit beside Sherlock, who shifted a little to give him space.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"Am I that obvious?"

John cocked his head, affirming it. 

They sat in silence, not looking at anything in particular. After a moment, John reached for Sherlock's shoulder.

"It'll be fine. Just try to sleep through it. Don't dwell on it."

"That sounds like unhealthy advice."

"That's because it is. Worked wonders for me. They've gone, though. The bad dreams, I mean."

"Alright then. Goodnight, John."

"Night." 

Sherlock switched the light off as soon as John got up, and heading towards the door John heard the rustling of Sherlock lying back down. He shut the door gently behind him, only to hear a click and see the door crack glow again. 

He went back in.

"Sherlock?" He was bundled up with his back to the door, his chest to his knees like when he's on the sofa. John pulled out his phone from his dressing gown and turned it's volume low. He hit play on his playlist. 

"Tchaikovsky's Lullaby?"

"I can't exactly sing it, can I?"

John walked over back to the bed, this time reaching for the opposite side. It was there, untouched by Sherlock. He sat down and stretched his legs, taking full advantage of the length of the bed. Sherlock switched the light back off and lay with his face towards John, still bundled up, but now relaxed. The piece was mellow to hear, the perfect white noise. Pulled in by warmth, John gradually drifted into the bed, and then to sleep. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ...I'll go sleep now.


End file.
